


Earthquakes

by mautadite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After that, well... Davos doesn't like to call it a <i>plan</i>; that sounds far too pre-meditated and organised for what is just supposed to be good sex with his boyfriend. But he does put his mind to work, and comes up with a solid idea.</p><p>(The one where Stannis needs to lose control, and Davos shows him how.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earthquakes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ASOIAF kink meme. Prompt: ‘Davos/Stannis, rimming. Doesn't matter if Canon or AU, but the image of Stannis being reduced to a trembling, gasping mess is ridiculously delicious’. I had ridiculous amounts of fun writing this.

It sort of happens in three parts.

**i.**

First, as Davos is sucking Stannis off in the entrance hallway of his apartment. Davos has had a key for a week or so now, and had let himself in to get a head start on dinner. Stannis comes in from the cold, tie askew, mouth thin, briefcase bulging, and looking like such… well, like such a _middle child_ that kissing his cheek and immediately dropping to his knees isn’t the _only_ thing that Davos can do, but it definitely seems high up there on the list. 

“Meeting didn’t go well?” he asks as he undoes Stannis’ flies and eases his trousers to the floor, somehow still crisp and straight after a day of work.

“Deplorable,” is the clipped reply, softened by a hand at the base of Davos’ neck. “Robert did everything in his power and then some to piss off the investors, and Renly scrolled through his… _tumblr_ —” The word is spat out like poison. “—the entire time.” 

“Oh dear,” says Davos consolingly, and gets to work.

He takes his cock into his mouth in one swallow, lets it lie heavy on his tongue as he sucks. Stannis is always slow to harden, but Davos doesn’t mind; he spreads his fingers over his Stannis’ thighs and takes it at a leisurely pace, using his mouth and his hands alternately to stroke him to fullness. His tongue makes a pass around the head, quickly at first, then with a long, measured sweep on the second go. Stannis’ briefcase thumps to the floor, and Davos hums gladly, sliding it out of the way with a knee.

“What’s that in the oven?” Stannis asks, voice breathy, but still even. “How long has—”

“Casserole,” Davos murmurs, kissing the crease of his thigh. “And only ten minutes; it still needs another half an hour. Don’t worry, I won’t let your apartment burn down while I’m giving you a blowjob.”

He’s met with a snort, which quickly turns into a kind of gasp when Davos lifts his cock out of the way, and mouths at his balls. Davos hears his fingers grasping at the smooth wall behind him, and smiles, sucking one into his mouth, then the other, wetting them with his tongue. Stannis’ breathing comes harsher, but he is as ever composed, the hand on Davos’ neck firm and steady. Stannis is always in control; it is as sure a thing as January rain, or his headaches after the Baratheon Christmas dinners.

Davos licks a path up Stannis’ cock, almost fully erect now, and takes him into his mouth again, swallows around him once or twice. Stannis grunts appreciatively, and Davos takes a minute to kiss his thigh again, smile up at him. He isn’t looking; his eyes are shut and his head is thrown back against the wall. Wanting to hear him make that sound again, Davos trails his tongue back over his bollocks, tracing their softness, before ducking down and slipping behind with a quick flick of his tongue.

The reaction is instantaneous; Stannis’ hips snap forward, his hand on Davos’ neck tightens almost to the point of pain, and he lets out a sound that is not quite the sound from before. For one, it’s very much not-in-control.

“What are you doing?” he snaps, voice wrecked. Davos pulls back, nonplussed, but also intrigued.

“Going down on you?” he ventures.

Stannis glares as if he’d just insulted his mother.

“Well, stop that. Do normal things.”

Davos supposes it’s not a very abnormal reaction in itself; they’ve never done that before, and some men don’t like it. He shrugs, kisses the tip of Stannis’ cock quickly, caresses his thighs and stomach to placate him, and continues sucking him off, slow and practised. It takes a minute for Stannis to relax again, but he does, and eventually comes with a grunt down Davos’ throat. He swallows, and eases all of Stannis’ tremors with fingers on his hips.

They kiss, clean up, and Stannis changes out of his suit to come help Davos with the rest of the dinner preparations. They have a nice meal as they talk about their day; Stannis grouses about pandering fools, Davos catches him up on things down at the docks. Afterwards, Davos reclines on the couch and watches reruns of _Spartacus: Blood and Sand_ while Stannis types emails on his laptop, looking up every now and then to make rude comments about all the historical inaccuracies.

In bed later, Stannis strokes Davos off, quick and intense, while Davos stares into his sea-blue eyes and drowns in them a thousand times. They share a last kiss before Stannis has to put his mouth guard in, and Davos falls asleep, curled against his man. He doesn’t think about the weird thing in the entrance hall, not that night, or ever again.

**ii.**

Until, of course, a few days later.

They’re both very early risers, and the sun hasn’t even begun to seep through the eastward windows when Stannis rolls out of bed, and walks briskly to the bathroom. Davos follows, a few minutes later. They don’t shower together often, as Stannis is awfully single-minded in the mornings, but even he can’t argue with the pragmatism of saving water.

That’s what Davos whispers into his neck, but of course, they just end up wasting water instead, when Davos backs Stannis up against the stall wall and strokes his cock to life. Stannis mutters about his schedule, but Davos assures him that he’s got a few minutes to spare, and drinks the rest of his words like wine. Moments like these are new and rare to him, and he wants to create and treasure them all.

They’ve only been together for six weeks, though Davos has known Stannis for going on six years, and there’s been this thing between them for almost that entire time. Even though he’d gotten around to acknowledging it surlily in the fourth year of their friendship — hands shoved into pockets against the cold while they waited for the tube on a December evening, the words scraping out through his teeth — acting on it had been out of the question in Stannis’ mind. He had refused to so much as hold Davos’ hand until his mind was no longer wavering, and the divorce was finalised.

(A courtesy that Selyse, his ex-wife, had been all too happy _not_ to extend. Davos is never going to forget the overwhelmingly awkward two minutes of polite chitchat he'd had to make with Selyse when they ran into each at Barnes and Nobles once, while Melisandre, two feet away, cheerfully browsed a selection of books on tantric sex. He’s glad for them, though. Davos loves Stannis, feels a burning loyalty to him down to the soles of his shoes, but understands that Selyse did not. The last time he’d seen her, she’d actually smiled at him, twice, and Melisandre keeps in touch through Stannis.)

Almost two months in, and they’re still taking it slow; they haven’t moved past handjobs and blowjobs and what Stannis refuses to term ‘cuddling’. It’s all fine by Davos, who like going slow, likes having the opportunity to learn Stannis like a record, lyric after lyric, learning what he likes and what drives him to pieces.

Like when Davos presses his thumb in a firm line along the veined underside of his cock, and takes advantage of the resultant arch of his back to kiss at his neck. The water sprays around them, wetting his way, and when Stannis grabs hold of his waist it is firm and slippery all at once. Davos kisses his way up to Stannis’ lips as he strokes, still sleep-drowsy, but becoming more and more alive under Stannis’ touch.

Stannis is a hard man, and cold sometimes, but his kisses are anything but. Davos’ tongue slides out to meet him, to rub against his own with lazy fervour. Humming, he lets his fingers trail up and down Stannis’ cock, drawing senseless patterns before returning to press against the slit. Stannis’ moan is a hiss in his mouth, and Davos feels as he slides down the wall just an inch, and as his legs spread open, like an invitation. His face itself looks open, eyes fluttering, thin lips slack. The very sight of him warms Davos.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” he whispers, slipping his other hand down so that they’re both cupping Stannis’ cock. The words make him wary, it seems, as he tenses up considerably, and his muscles don’t regain their ease until Davos starts jerking him off slowly. Davos distracts him with a kiss, gives an appreciative moan of his own when a hand cups and grips his ass. When he judges Stannis relaxed enough, he slips two fingers behind his balls, and rubs lightly at the spot there.

“I don’t—” says Stannis immediately, and cuts himself off. Davos stills his fingers, and looks into the wide blue eyes. They’re glazed over with surprise, but also pleasure.

“You don’t…?” Davos prompts, ready to remove his fingers at the first word. Stannis only moans, however, and twists his hips forward. His fingers scramble for the back of Davos’ neck, and he’s willing to take that for acquiescence. Spurred on, his fingers brush his perineum again while his other hand strokes off Stannis’ cock. He presses lightly, and then firmly, keeping his eyes peeled, and oh, how he’s rewarded. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Stannis come so hard; his lover has to bite his lip to keep from shouting, and his entire body shakes.

Later, as Stannis sucks him off — water turned off by now, Stannis insisting that if they’re going to do this, they need to cut out the flagrant wastage — Davos reflects a bit. It’s obviously not that area that Stannis has a problem with; if he’s right, the younger man is just clinging to his habits against the utter unfamiliarity of losing control. Davos has been there, with the uncertainty and the fear. Instinctively, his wish is to help, guide him through it.

Objectively, he knows, mind going bliss-white as Stannis pulls off with a soft pop and jerks him to a climax, it won’t be as simply done as said.

**iii.**

Then again.

After that, well... Davos doesn't like to call it a _plan_ ; that sounds far too pre-meditated and organised for what is just supposed to be good sex with his boyfriend. But he does put his mind to work, and comes up with a solid idea.

Stannis doesn’t mention the bathroom thing, or the hallway thing in the days that follow. Davos can see that it’s bothering him, though. When Stannis Baratheon is presented with a problem, it is in his nature to meet it head on, curse in its face, not to falter behind indecision. This, however, is a realm where he has precious little experience. The limbo will kill him, so Davos doesn’t make him wait for long.

Two days later, when Stannis comes home from work, Davos is sitting on the couch with his reading glasses perched on his nose, perusing the evening news.

“Hello,” he says, watching Stannis stride to the bedroom. “How was your day?”

“Robert called in sick,” comes the irritated reply, “which, of course, means that he got blind drunk last night and couldn’t be arsed to come in and put up the usual farce of being a responsible adult and running the company. At least I didn’t have to suffer through hearing his secretary rebuff him five times throughout the day, or watch him make ridiculous half-drunken decisions.”

Davos winces. Robert is an okay guy, by anyone’s standards, but he tends to live his personal life like a Dionysian nightmare, and it bleeds into his work life far too often for comfort.

“Small mercies?” he offers, twisting to look over the back of the couch. Stannis appears in the doorway of the bedroom, twisting off his tie as he glowers.

“Infinitesimal mercies. I would much prefer if he took the brain everyone knows he has, and put it to use for the company, instead of potentially dragging us into sexual harassment lawsuits.” He looks both annoyed and thoughtful as he shrugs out of his shirt. “The Tyrell boy and his father did come to visit today, though, and as Robert wasn’t around, Renly spent his time... being Renly.”

Davos knows that that means ‘being enormously charming and convincing people to give us their money’, so the day wasn’t a total loss. He grins, and is about to offer a quip back when Stannis straightens abruptly, suspicion in his spine.

“You look very nice.” It sounds like an accusation, but Davos smiles anyway. He hasn’t done much; shaved, cut his hair, put on a nice shirt, but he’s glad Stannis noticed.

“Thank you.”

Stannis raises his eyebrow at him for another moment before he resumes unbuckling his belt.

“Anyway, otherwise, it was just all the same ridiculous brownnosing and opportunistic pandering, from everyone in Accounts to Human Resources.” He snorts inelegantly. “As if kissing my arse while they obscure the figures is going to make the reality anything other than what it is. I swear it to you, Davos, one day I’m going to make good on my threat to fire half the people that work under me and bring you into the main office, experience be damned. At least you tell it to me like it is.”

Stannis _has_ been threatening to do that for a while now, even though Davos is sure he won’t, now that they’ve started dating. Stickler for rules and order, and all that. In any case, he’s pretty content, managing things down at the docks, and isn’t sure how well he’d do, stuck in a suit in a high-rise.

But here, window of opportunity.

“ _Speaking_ of telling you like it is…” Davos drops the paper, and heads round to Stannis’ side. He’s been draping his clothes over a chair next to the door as he disrobes. “I’ll take care of these. You head to the bathroom; I’ve drawn you a bath. …In your bathtub,” he clarifies further, as Stannis looks confused, and might possibly be wondering what Davos thinks he should do with a picture of a tub of water.

“A _bath_?” Now he sounds offended. “Baths are for women, children, and the invalided.”

Davos restrains himself from rolling his eyes, but only just.

“Okay, if you’re quite done with your impromptu trip to the 1920s.” He gives his boyfriend a gentle shove towards the bathroom door. “Go on, go soak and relax. There’s lavender and camomile and things in it.” Granted, Davos has no idea how those things are supposed to help with the relaxing bit, but he’d read a thing online that seemed credible enough.

“What about dinner?”

“Dinner comes later. Don’t worry, I’ve got things taken care of. Go on.”

He makes a shooing motion. Stannis still looks supremely suspicious, but he disappears through the bathroom door nonetheless. Davos hangs up his suit, puts it with the others for dry cleaning, peeks into the bathroom to make sure that Stannis really did get in — he did, and looks more confused than ever — and then goes to the kitchen to check up on the stew in the slow cooker. Still another hour and a half to go; they’ve got plenty of time. 

Davos grabs the paper from the couch, and heads back into the bedroom, where he strips, and sits reading naked above the covers, settled in to wait. However, he’s only read the comics, the sports pages, and is halfway through an exposé about a young Targaryen girl making waves a few cities east, when he hears the door creak open. In Stannis pads, wrapped in a robe and briskly towelling off his hair. Already smiling, Davos lowers the paper.

“That was quick. All relaxed out already?”

That earns him a glare.

“Not particularly, no. I smell ridiculous.” Davos stares at him, and raises an eyebrow in a helpfully hinting sort of way until Stannis’ scowl deepens. “Fine. I smell ridiculous, and the water was nice. Davos, what is this about? You know I don’t like secrets.” There’s a pause, and then Stannis proceeds to look mildly horrified. “If you tell me that today is our two month ‘anniversary’ or anything like—”

“Not to worry,” Davos drawls over him, amused despite himself. “That doesn’t happen for a few weeks.” He waits for Stannis to glare at him some more, and then slides his glasses off. “It’s nothing sinister, Stannis. I just wanted you to have a chance to loosen up.” He shrugs. “Relax.”

His boyfriend folds the towel, rests it on a chair, and walks over to sit on the bed.

“I’m relaxed,” he says stiffly. “What are we going to do?”

And well, Davos did promise honesty, and the bath has done all that it could. He links his fingers on his abdomen.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m going to eat you out, because, well, I think you’d quite like it.”

It takes a few moments for Stannis to catch on, and then. The people who call Stannis an emotionless robot should see him now. Colour leaps rapidly to his cheeks, and his features seem to be warring between flabbergasted and angry and aroused. It’s a very attractive look on him. 

Davos slides across the bed, as Stannis chokes out various versions of ‘ridiculous’ and ‘unhygienic’ and ‘nonsense’. Shushing him is the work of a quick kiss, and then another, slower and deeper. Stannis kisses back, almost shakily.

“Like I said,” Davos murmurs against his cheek, “we don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I just think it would be good for you. Lose control for a bit. And if you don’t like it, well, we won’t do it again.”

He lets Stannis think it through, occupying himself with the crook of his neck. And, alright, he _does_ smell a little absurd, but his skin is as hot and good as ever as Davos kisses the firm bone of his jawline, all the way down to his fluttering pulse. One hand toys with the ties to the robe, but he doesn’t let it slip in until he hears a shuddering breath. 

“…Once,” Stannis says, and it manages to sound like a command even when his breathing is all out of sorts. “And if I say stop…”

“Then I stop, no questions asked.” Stannis is just a little taller than him, and at this angle, he’s looking down at Davos with those incredible blue eyes. Times like these, Davos remembers that though he acts like a curmudgeonly old man most days, Stannis is only twenty-seven. He’s had to take on so much in his life, take care of so many people, with no one to do the reverse.

Until Davos. 

Stannis nods his agreement, almost curtly, and Davos’ answer is a measured smile.

“Lie back,” he whispers, pushing Stannis further up the bed. He complies, reaching the pillows and leaning back on his elbows, stiff and taut as violin strings. Crawling up his body, a knee on either side of his waist, Davos tries to soothe him with a smile, and kisses all over the exposed vee of his chest. He also tries to ignore how hard his cock has gone in the space of a few minutes. This bit is all about Stannis. 

His hands make quick work of the loose knot in the robe, and spread it apart while he kisses his way up to Stannis’ lips. Their kiss is slow, but fevered, making Davos’ breath come faster. He lets his hands explore the dips and contours of Stannis’ chest; wiry, but hard and hot. He finds his nipples without looking, and pinches them; the growling gasp that he gets in return makes him even harder, if anything.

Stannis is slow to relax, but Davos can feel his prick stirring to life beneath him nonetheless. He slots himself between his legs and gives a little roll of his hips, rubbing their cocks together. The way Stannis gives little pants that he tries to quickly suck back in is endearing and arousing all at once. Davos, sucking a wet spot into his throat, has to move back up to kiss him again, suck his tongue into his mouth. Moaning, Stannis grasps at his hips and ass, pulling him forward.

The message is clear. Davos pulls away, giving him one last peck, before starting a leisurely trek down his chest. He explores his pectorals and abs with his teeth and tongue, cataloguing every strangled gasp and groan that he elicits. His hand reaches below him to cup Stannis; his erection stands stiff now, dripping moisture onto his stomach. A thumb rolls around the head, spreading the wetness, and Stannis curses, hips snapping up. Mouthing at his stomach, Davos chuckles.

He could do this all day, but the closer and closer he gets to his cock, the more Stannis writhes, and the teasing can wait for another time. Davos shifts again, so that he’s crouched between his boyfriend’s legs, fists the base of his erection, and takes as much of him as he can into his mouth. Stannis shivers, cupping Davos’ face in his hands, throwing his head back. He tastes good, salty and strong, and Davos rolls his tongue up and down, massaging the underside. It makes Stannis choke back a cry and quicken the movement of his hips. Davos holds still for a few seconds, letting him gently fuck his mouth with short sharp strokes, every now and then giving suction, making Stannis go faster.

“Not yet,” he murmurs when he pulls off and away, feeling the familiar tremors begin. Stannis, hair mussed and eyes hot, glares at him and the absence of his mouth, but not for long. Davos kisses the tip of his cock, then his thigh, then the inside of his thigh, then the soft skin of his balls. He hears Stannis suck in a sharp breath when his tongue slips out to lave at them, and then lower, to the nub of his perineum. First, he lays a gentle press on the bundle of nerves, and then a slow, wet sweep.

“Oh, god,” Stannis moans, presses his head back against the pillows. One hand makes a fist so tight in the sheets that Davos thinks he hears the fabric rip. He smiles, then adjusts himself again, clearing the skirt of the robe out of the way, spreading Stannis’ legs wider, and moving his hands so that he can palm his ass. Stannis’ breathing quickens audibly.

“Are you alright?” Davos asks as he looks up, pressing a light kiss to a bare thigh. The hair there tickles his face. 

“I’m fine,” Stannis grits through his teeth. “I’m fine. Just…” He trails off and turns away, his face visibly hot, and gives the tiniest roll of his hips. Davos takes pity on him.

“Okay,” he says, and dips down, spreading his cheeks to give him a soft kiss on the pink opening. 

Just that has Stannis clutching at the bed with his other hand, and before he can adjust, Davos flattens his tongue and licks him from his hole to his balls. He has to move his hands up to Stannis’ hips to keep them still; they jerk up in tandem with the gasp that’s torn from his lips. Using his shoulders to keep his legs spread, Davos gives another long lick, getting him good and wet. When Stannis raises his hips off the bed, on instinct and nothing else, Davos angles his neck and slides his tongue in a circle around his entrance, and then in, just a little. 

“Oh my — oh _god_ ,” Stannis cries again, and the last word is almost a whimper, a sound that sends a bolt of want straight to Davos’ prick. He moans as he mouths at Stannis, and tries not to interrupt his rhythm as he snakes a hand down to palm himself roughly, and then brings it back up to hold Stannis in a loose grip. Lifting his cock, Davos runs his tongue from his balls, straight down to his pucker, and back up again, humming as he goes, and Stannis chokes out another cry.

It’s beautiful, seeing him lose it like this. His body reacts to every lick, every touch, the slightest bit of pressure. Davos pulls back slightly so that he can look at Stannis, see every tremor and gasp as he sucks on his index, and then presses the tip of it against his entrance.

“Fuck… oh, fu— _god_ , oh god.” It’s easily the most incoherent thing Davos has ever heard pass those lips. That knowledge makes him a little dizzy, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, ignore his aching cock. He presses the finger more firmly, but still slow, and watches as Stannis’ mouth curls to form an ‘o’ with his gasp. The first knuckle goes easily, so too for the second, and he bends over again to wet his way further, sliding his tongue around his gently thrusting finger. 

“D-davos, Davos, I—” Stannis cuts himself off yet again, rolling his hips down on Davos’ mouth and finger, only to gasp sharply when Davos drives the finger home, curling it inside of him. His legs are quivering on either side of Davos’ face, and his fingers scramble in the sheets, scraping at the fabric. “Oh god, I… please, _please_.”

“Go on,” Davos whispers, letting his tongue leave a wet path up to Stannis’ prick, all the way to the crown to lick away his pre-come. “Say it.”

Stannis’ face twists in his pleasure, his head thrashing from one side to the next, every inch of him alive with his gasps as Davos teases his tongue back into the heat of him.

“I — f-fuck me, please, _fuck_ … I can’t—”

It’s a short road from there. Stannis fucks himself on his finger, rolling his body up and down, clutching the sheets, absolutely letting go as Davos mouths the most sensitive parts of him relentlessly. He curls the finger in him as far as it can go, and crooks it, rubbing against his prostate from the inside, and Stannis _wails_ , chest arcing into the air as he comes on his stomach, Davos’ hand flying over his cock. Davos eases his finger out, and lets his tongue carry Stannis through the aftershocks, licking and sucking around his balls and lower, rubbing hard against the edges of his hole.

When it seems like Stannis is on his way to getting his breath back, Davos crawls up his body, buries his face in the warm neck, and finally grasps firm hold of his prick, groaning with it. He’s been on the edge for what seems like ages now, and the sight of Stannis coming like that, face flushed and eyes wet, had only pushed him further. Stannis’ hand joins him, wet with his own come and stroking firmly, and it’s not long before Davos is climaxing with a low, drawn-out moan of satisfaction, shivering to the roots of his hair.

He collapses next to his boyfriend, feeling like all the air in his body has seeped out through his pores. Stannis is still breathing hard, and when Davos risks a peek, his expression speaks to a kind of bewildered stoniness. 

On the Stannis scale, that’s pretty good, given the occasion.

“So,” he says mildly, running a hand along Stannis’ stomach in a soothing way. He raises himself up onto an elbow. “I don’t think I’d be wrong in saying that you liked that, right?”

The immediate answer is a scowl, but that’s pretty par for the course. What Davos is waiting for is the secondary reaction, which comes haltingly and slowly, a few moments later.

“Maybe,” Stannis says, sounding cross, but blushing like a teenager, “we can do that more than once.”

Davos, frankly, is very proud of the fact that he keeps his smile to himself, and only nods solemnly. 

“Whatever you say. You're the boss.”

~~~

After taking a few minutes to cool down, they slip off to the bathroom to have a quick shower and make out a little (after Davos has gargled with Listerine, on Stannis’ insistence). By the time they make it to the kitchen, the scene of onions is wafting through the air, and Davos only has to add the pieces of cod to the stew and give it a few stirs before it’s ready. As it’s a Friday evening, Stannis pulls out a bottle of dry Chenin blanc from the fridge, and gets the wineglasses and their trays together.

They have their dinner on the couch. Davos flips through channels until he lands on an old episode of _Never Mind the Buzzcocks_. The next half hour is spent with Stannis making appalled faces at Noel Fielding’s hat and getting all the answers wrong. (“Oh, come on, you have to know that song, it’s Celine Dion!” – “Why in blazes should I know it?” – “It was playing at your wedding?” – “…”) As usual, Stannis only drinks half his wine before he declares he’s had enough and foists the rest off on Davos. He’s still drowsy and placid enough than Davos manages to coax him into sitting through the action film that comes on later, and he only makes three churlish comments about the questionable plot and bad acting.

Later, in bed, Davos kisses Stannis goodnight with a light hand on his jaw, and then curls up against his man. The wine and good food have made him pleasantly sleepy, and he expects Stannis to doze off with him, but even after Davos’ breathing goes easy and he relaxes into the mattress, he still feels Stannis sitting up, still as stone.

Somehow, something tells him that it’s coming. It sort of happens in three parts: Davos doesn’t start, or give any indication that he’s awake when Stannis slides his hand carefully into his own, lifts it up to kiss each of his fingers, once against the knuckles, and smile a small, thin smile. His breath is very warm, and though Davos remains still, he feels like the earth is shifting pleasantly beneath him; a small, localised earthquake.

“This is absurd,” he hears Stannis mumble. A stretch of sticky silence follows; a car horn blares in the distance. Stannis eases down to lie next to him, bringing his thin warmth. He places a hand almost gingerly against Davos’ thigh. “I'm... I'm not quite sure how to tell you… tell you how much I do so care about you.”

The confession hangs in the air. Eyes closed, Davos listens as Stannis reaches across to the nightstand for his mouth guard, and slips it in. When he settles back in, Davos huddles up closer to him, as if in sleep. 

He knows how hard it is for Stannis to lose control, to show emotion, to find words. With Davos though, he doesn’t have to. He already knows.

**Author's Note:**

> It depends on my time and inspiration, but this is possibly not the last you'll be seeing of this 'verse.


End file.
